


wash him deep where the tides are turning

by MediaWhore



Series: parsley, sage, rosemary & thyme [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Practical Magic Fusion, Curses, Established Relationship, M/M, Magic, Magic Harry, Magical Realism, Practical magic - Freeform, Witch Curses, Witch Harry, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4353590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediaWhore/pseuds/MediaWhore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Harry finally tells Louis about his family’s curse and the true love spell that broke it, they’ve been dating for seven months, nineteen days and about twelve hours and Louis’ cock is buried deep inside his arse."</p><p>Part two of a practical magic au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wash him deep where the tides are turning

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to a [ Practical Magic AU ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3844924) I wrote a few weeks ago. I would definitely recommend reading it first :) 
> 
> Title is from bottom of the river by delta rae

When Harry finally tells Louis about his family’s curse and the true love spell that broke it, they’ve been dating for seven months, nineteen days and about twelve hours and Louis’ cock is buried deep inside his arse.

 

Looking back on it, Harry thinks he might have chosen a more appropriate setting for that particular brand of life changing revelation.

 

Louis stops thrusting into him abruptly, one hand near his head, the other tightly gripping his waist. He can feel Louis panting against his neck; can easily picture his confused face, the way his eyebrows are probably furrowed as he tries to make sense of what Harry just blurted. Harry shivers a little, heartbeat speeding up as time stretches, trying to think of a way to make “Fuck Lou, I’m so glad I cast that love spell” not sound like the creepiest sentence ever.

 

“What?” Louis finally asks softly, barely louder than a whisper.

 

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles into the sheets as he feels Louis slipping out. “That came out wrong,” he continues in a raspy voice, eyes tightly closed and hands holding the headboard. He’s still hard and he can’t help but feels slightly disoriented at how quickly the situation turned around. He can already feel goose bumps appearing on his sweaty skin where the heat of Louis’ body used to be pressed against him.

 

Louis doesn’t say anything else, but Harry can hear him moving around his bedroom, can hear him getting up from the bed and probably start fumbling for his clothes. He takes a deep breath to give himself courage before opening his eyes again, letting go of the headboard and turning around to sit cross-legged on his bed, facing Louis who’s already started getting dressed.

 

Harry gulps. This is pretty bad.

 

“Lou-” he stops himself when he gets an angry look that makes the last traces of his erection disappear in return.

 

Louis turns around, zipping his hoodie facing the window and Harry can see how tensed his boyfriend is, can see the rigidity and stiffness of his back as he refuses to look back. Harry feels really fucking stupid.

 

“It’s not what you think,” Harry starts again firmly despite Louis’ nonverbal rejection.

 

He receives his pants in the face in reply.

 

“Get dressed,” Louis orders in a shaky voice, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He looks like a mixture of hurt and angry, face closed off and eyes hard.

 

Harry obeys quietly, puts his t-shirt on, then his joggers, leaving his socks for last. He doesn’t look back at Louis, feels too silly and awful for it.

 

Of all the ways he imagined himself being finally completely honest with the man he loves, this… this certainly wasn’t it.

 

He can’t believe it actually. He’s been trying to find the words for weeks now. He’s written Louis half a dozen unsent letters, has prepared twice as many speeches and this is what his stupid brain decides to go with? If someone asked, Harry would admit to being quite disgusted with himself.  Put a cock inside of him and he loses all common sense? It’s pathetic is what it is.

 

“Will you stop that,” Louis grumbles, snapping Harry out of his daydream.

 

“Sorry,” Harry blushes as half of the things on his desk stop levitating. “‘Can’t help it.”

 

Louis looks at him for a few seconds before he sighs loudly, seemingly deflating, losing the anger on his face and replacing it with defeat. “Explain,” he demands in a soft voice, the expression on his face making Harry feel like the worst boyfriend in history.

 

“It’s really really not what you think,” Harry babbles. Of all the things he has to say, this is the most important one.  “I didn’t… coerce you into falling in love with me. I swear, Louis. That’s fucked up magic, I… I wouldn’t do that. Ever. Especially not to you.”

 

Louis doesn’t look convinced. At all. He doesn’t say anything. He just keeps on staring, arms wrapped protectively around his own body.

 

“Then what did you mean by love spell?” he finally asks. He’s frowning again. “‘Cause I know I’m new to all of this,” he continues, gesticulating towards the herbs scattered on Harry’s desk and the crystals hanging by his bedroom door. “But that doesn’t leave much room for different interpretations okay. And I’ll fucking castrate you if I find out you’ve given me the magical equivalent of a rape drug!”

 

“I didn’t!” Harry says with an awkward, nervous giggle.

 

Louis breathes in deeply and looks like he’s about to yell.

 

“Sorry, sorry. It’s not funny. It’s just…” Harry pauses, trying to hide the smile on the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” he admits, grimacing self-deprecatingly as he does so. It’s not the first time he’s declared his feelings, but this feels brand new somehow. Fragile. “You’re feisty and caring and I’m … I’m so glad it’s you.”

 

“Sweet,” Louis sneers, raising an angry eyebrow at him.

 

Harry takes a deep breath. “It’s not what you think,” he repeats because it’s really not. And Louis needs to understand it.

 

“So you’ve said. What is it then?” Louis asks. He feels confused still. Harry can sense the anger bubbling under the surface, the nervous energy buzzing out of Louis’ skin as he stares stoically at Harry, trying to pretend like he’s calm about this. Harry knows better, though.

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

“Fuck this,” Louis mumbles as he takes a few steps towards the door.

 

“Wait,” Harry says, grabbing Louis’ arm before he gets to leave. “It _is_ complicated.”

 

They stare at each other for a beat.

 

“Lou,” Harry pleads, making his best puppy eyes, silencing imploring him to stay. _Stay and please listen_ , Harry thinks over and over again, unable to actually say it but hoping Louis can still hear.

 

Louis sighs loudly before walking back to the bed, sitting down and pointing at the spot in front of him. “Start talking,” he demands with closed eyes.

 

Harry gulps and joins him on the bed, sitting cross-legged and feeling like a scorned child.

 

“There was a curse,” he admits. “Put on my family.”

 

 _That_ gets Louis attention and he looks straight into Harry’s eyes again, now clearly interested in what he has to say.

 

“What type of curse?” he asks slowly. He’s frowning, a hesitant look on his face like he doesn’t know how he’s meant to react to that.

 

“A bad one,” Harry shrugs, pinching at the skin of his ankle absently.

 

Louis gives him a pointed look. “Really, Haz? A curse that’s bad?”

 

Harry rolls his eyes. Louis always thrives on being difficult but now, when Harry is desperately trying to find a way to explain that makes even the tiniest bit of sense, is not the time.

 

“Who cast it?” Louis continues, a bit softer than before, like he knows how big of a deal this is for Harry. He shakes his head before Harry gets to reply, though. “Your life…” he adds disbelievingly.

 

“I know,” Harry nods with a gulp. Louis has been so wonderful ever since he found out the truth that Harry sometimes forget that he wasn’t born into this too, that magic is still brand new to him with all the fear, confusion and wonder that entails. “My great-great-great-great-great-great-aunt Cecilia. She’s the one who cast it,” Harry explains.

 

Louis frowns and shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would she curse her own family?”

 

“She fell in love,” Harry admits with a sad smile. He wishes he could fully hate Cecilia for what she’s done to them. And he does a bit. But the truth is, most of the time, it just makes him unbelievably sad. “And he died. Story goes she was so broken-hearted and so angry that she made sure no one else in our family would have or keep love either. She made sure that all of her descendants wouldn’t fall in love or if they did…” Harry gulps. It’s been a long time, but it still hurts. “She made sure that we’d lose it. I think she wanted to spare her family the pain of love, you know? But in the end, she was the one who ensured it for us…”

 

“Harry,” Louis says softly, reaching for him and wrapping his smaller fingers around one of Harry’s wrist. He can probably feel the erratic pulse of his heart, the nerves hidden underneath his skin.

 

“It was always just a story to me, you know?” Harry continues, ignoring Louis’ supportive eyes.

 

If he focuses on them, he might start crying and he really wants to explain this properly. So Harry keeps going even though there’s a tightness in his chest that won’t loosen, a scar as old as generations of his family that even the breaking of the curse couldn’t truly heal.

 

“When I was little... I knew my grandmother got sad whenever she talked about my grandpa, but I’d never known him. It didn’t make much sense to me when she’d curse at Aunt-Cecilia’s portrait, you know? It was another one of those little weird things about my family… like everything else,” Harry laughs sadly.

 

Louis hums, tightening his hold on Harry’s wrist, slowly rubbing a thumb there. It’s almost too much.

 

“It wasn’t until my dad died that I really understood what it meant for us,” Harry admits in a shaky breath.

 

It’s still hard to talk about. It was so long ago and yet. Some days, Harry fears he’ll never feel completely at peace with what happened. Some days, Harry feels like there’s always going to be a whole piece of him missing. Whenever he sees a hint of sadness on his mother’s face or whenever he remembers a fond childhood memory that will always be tainted by that loss no matter how happy or bright, Harry thinks that he will never get over it. Then the sadness slowly passes and he can breathe again. Until the next bad day.

 

“Babe,” Louis whispers comfortingly. It’s not the first time Harry’s mentioned his father’s death to him, but he’s rarely elaborated. Mostly because it involved things Louis didn’t know about yet but also because Harry didn’t feel quite ready to tell.

 

“I was ten,” Harry continues even though Louis already knows that. “That’s when I realised… that the curse was real. That’s when I realised that falling in love would mean death and loss and pain. I was scared and angry so I did something I thought would save me from it. From the heartbreak.”

 

“A love spell?” Louis guesses and he sounds disappointed almost.

 

“Yes, but not like you think. I didn’t make you fall for me. I didn’t magic this up,” Harry says sincerely.

 

“Then what did you do?”

 

“I cast a love spell on me. Sort of,” he says with a tiny shrug. “An anti-love spell I suppose. As I said, it’s complicated and Gemma and I aren’t even sure we understand it all, to be honest. I was little when I made it, didn’t know what I was doing really.”

 

“Just so you know Harold if you were aiming for reassuring you’ve definitely failed,” Louis teases, probably to try and lighten the mood. He does that a lot, Harry’s noticed. It doesn’t always work but Harry loves him fiercely for trying.

 

“I made a spell to make sure I’d never fall in love. With anyone. That’s all."

 

Harry can tell that’s not what Louis was expecting him to say. He looks really sad, starts holding Harry’s second hand, silently encouraging him to go on.

 

“Gosh,” Harry sighs, feeling nervous. He’s a bit embarrassed is all, a bit scared of how Louis will react. “I made the spell to make sure I’d only fall in love with one person, my... soulmate I guess. Had this list of things you know? Criteria about my dream man. A man I didn’t think could exist. I figured if I could only fall in love with someone who couldn't be real then Cecilia's curse couldn't hurt me again. I sort of… I don’t know... curse myself too?  At least, that’s what Gemma thinks. Double curse or something.”

 

“Fix a curse with a curse?” Louis teases.

 

Harry smiles absently to himself, eyes fixed on their feet in shyness. He can feel himself blush but simply shrugs before mumbling. “I was ten.”

 

“Fair enough. So what was this dream man like then?” Louis asks in a funny voice. He’s nervous still, Harry thinks. Nervous and trying to hide it.

 

“You,” Harry confesses as he risks a look into Louis’ eyes. They’re blue today, he notices fondly. His absolute favourite shade.

 

Louis doesn’t look surprised. He exhales slowly, looking serious. “I ...uh,” he shakes his head a little, the hint of a smile on his face. “I thought it might,” he admits shyly, eyes fixed on Harry’s t-shirt rather than his face.

 

Harry tries to smile with misty eyes. He gulps a couple of times to buy himself a few seconds, trying to get himself together and continue.

 

“It was silly things you know? Three dads, a family of twins, tattoos to match mine…”

 

Louis laughs wetly then. "Weird criteria," he teases softly, gaze fixed on their locked hands.

 

Harry shrugs. "I'm weird," he says like it's obvious. "I thought you'd know that by now."

 

"My beautiful weirdo," Louis whispers lovingly.

 

Harry doesn't mean to blush and yet. He clears his throat awkwardly in response.

 

"Awww don't blush Hazza," Louis says, leaning in and pressing a loud kiss into Harry's neck, letting go of his hands and wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulder, hugging him tight.

 

“You…” Harry coughs. “You’re not mad?” he asks into Louis’ hair. He feels him pressing a small kiss to his collarbone, shivers a little at the attention without meaning to.

 

“Keep explaining,” Louis demands, nosing at Harry’s neck. “What else was there?”

 

“Eyes that are never the same colours twice,” Harry starts saying.

 

“My eyes do not change colours this much Harold,” Louis interrupts, finally letting go of their hug to give Harry a stern look.

 

“Yes, they do.” They’re already a bit greyer than before actually, Harry notices, but he has the tact not to mention it. He’s already pissed Louis off today with major life changing revelations, their usual banter can wait for a bit.

 

“No, they don’t. They’re blue and if it’s stormy outside they’re a bit grey,” Louis insists and okay, maybe he’s right. He’s known his own body longer than Harry has after all, but it’s not the way Harry sees things.

 

“When you’ve just woken up, they’re paler. Like someone put a bit of white paint in while you were sleeping, diluted them just to make them softer. And when you’re mad, they’re like steel and I can never tell if they’re more blue or grey then. It’s like it keeps switching just to keep me on my toes while we fight. Sometimes they look greener for no reason-  ”

 

“Harry,” Louis interrupts breathlessly.

 

“They never look the same to me,” Harry says seriously.

 

“Okay,” Louis replies with a tiny nod. “What else?”

 

“Nothing much,” Harry says with a dismissive shrug. “Someone who wouldn’t be scared of my magic,” he adds in a mumble, a bit embarrassed to have to admit it.

 

He never thought it would happen is the thing. He never thought he’d meet someone like Louis. He never thought he’d meet someone who would welcome that part of him with open arms and a loving, gentle heart. He never thought it could be accepted without fear or resistance. The mere fact that Louis is still here, still willing to listen after what Harry stupidly blurted means more than Harry could ever say. After years of whispers and insults, it's better than he could have ever dreamed of.

 

"You thought someone not being afraid of your magic couldn't exist?" Louis asks and he looks distraught.

 

"I was ten," Harry insists awkwardly, biting at his lower lip.

 

"Love -" Louis starts.

 

"It doesn't matter," Harry interrupts quickly. He doesn’t like thinking about it.

 

“It matters to me,” Louis argues fiercely and Harry can’t keep looking at him, puts a nervous hand through his curls just to distract himself. “I hate that,” Louis continues absently, voice low. “I hate that people made you feel like that.”

 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Harry replies. “I know what I’m worth,” he continues because he does. It was a slow and painful process but Harry has come to realise how little others’ perception matters. They couldn’t possibly understand him. They couldn’t possibly understand his family. The people in town are merely scared and Harry knows he’s wasted too many years caring about what fear makes them say.

 

“Good,” Louis says with a nod. “Your magic is beautiful. It’s… everything,” he continues, wonder in his voice, and it will never stop being amazing to hear.

 

Harry giggles. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help it. He’s still not used to having people being impressed by his abilities. “Thanks,” he says with a shy shrug.

 

“What else?” Louis insists straight away and he definitely feels more curious than angry now.

 

“He’d only drink tea?” Harry offers with widening eyes and a grimace.

 

Louis laughs, eyes crinkling. “Well, that one for sure applies to me.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. It’s not entirely true, of course. Louis drinks a lot of things. Still, if asked Harry would say tea is about seventy-five percent of his nutrition. “I didn’t think it was possible but… there you were. Years later, after I’d long given up on romance, you just appeared.  Beautiful and kind and ticking off every single item in that spell…”

 

“Is that… Is that why you fell for me?” Louis asks hesitantly. “Because of some childhood fantasy you thought had come to life?”

 

It’s a good question, a fair question. One Harry isn’t quite sure how to answer. “I don’t think so,” he chooses to reply. “I was scared when I realised what was happening. It… didn’t make sense to me. I liked you, straight away. You were pretty hot and I just felt drawn. Even though I knew I should stay far far away considering the circumstances.”

 

“But?”

 

“But I couldn’t. And the more I got to know you, the more I realised it was you. You were the answer to my curse. Not because of magic, but because you were what I had been hoping for. What I had always been hoping for. I was terrified. I didn’t want to believe it.”

 

“Why?” Louis asks in a scratchy voice.

 

“I thought it meant I had lost my protection against the curse. I thought it meant I’d fall for you if I got to know you even better and that I’d lose you for it,” Harry says and he _hateshateshates_ the wetness in his eyes and the shaking of his voice.

 

“Harry,” Louis whispers as he brings his hand up to cradle Harry’s face, dragging him down for a bruising kiss.

 

It takes him a bit by surprise, but soon Harry is kissing back, open-mouthed and wet, moaning when Louis gives his bottom lip a small bite.

 

“That’s not gonna happen,” Louis says against Harry’s lips when they finally stop snogging.

 

“I know,” Harry nods, leaning in again.

 

Louis stops him though, puts a small hand on Harry’s chest and tilts his head back in confusion. “You do?”

 

“You broke the curse,” Harry replies with a smile.

 

Louis frowns with a confused smile, nose all scrunched up cutely. “What? How?”

 

“True love,” Harry replies shyly. He can’t know for sure of course. He hasn’t received any messages from the beyond from good old auntie Cecilia, but it’s the best theory he has. “I think,” he adds.

 

“Very precise Harold,” Louis teases.

 

“I never said magic was an exact science,” Harry protests. “All I know is that we got rid of Tom and you and I started to happen and I knew, I don’t know how or why, but I knew it was broken. It was the greatest certainty I’d ever felt in my life. And it can’t be a coincidence.”

 

Louis doesn’t say anything for a while. He just stares at Harry with that fond gaze he always wears when he thinks Harry isn’t looking.

 

“I know it’s a lot to take in.”

 

Louis nods, reaching up to pet at Harry’ hair. “It is,” he agrees seriously.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Harry continues. He tilts his head to give Louis’ wrist a tiny kiss hoping it will make him smile and he feels warmth blooming in his chest when he sees the crinkles in the corner of Louis’ eyes in response.

 

“You _should_ have told me,” Louis says sternly but he’s still smiling.

 

Harry gulps. He’s been justifying it to himself for months now, but truth is there’s no excuse for his dishonesty. “I know. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

 

Louis nods. “Don’t do it again,” he orders, hands slipping from Harry’s hair and smile dropping off for a few seconds.

 

“I won’t,” Harry says quickly.

 

“Ever,” Louis insists as Harry keeps shaking his head. “I can deal with some weird shit Haz. I even want to deal with all that magic nonsense life of yours… But I can’t if you’re not being honest with me. And I know you’ve been used to keeping secrets all your life, I get that. But I love you and that’s not how I want us to be with each other. Okay?”

 

“I promise,” Harry says. He raises his right fist to his mouth, blows gently into his hand and opens it towards Louis, offering him the flower who just appeared at its centre.

 

Louis tilts his head in response, eyes fixed on Harry’s hand, mouth already opening to ask the meaning of the gesture.  

 

“It’s a white chrysanthemum,” Harry explains, beating him to the punch. “They symbolise truth. I promise to only give you that from now on.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes, smirking as he takes the flower and smells it. “You goofball,” he whispers affectionately, tucking the chrysanthemum behind Harry’s ear.

 

“There,” he adds once he’s satisfied. “Come here,” he whispers dragging Harry into a kiss.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i'm definitely planning on writing more in this series. i'm not quite ready to give up on witch harry yet. 
> 
> you can hit me up on [tumblr](http://mediawhorefics.tumblr.com)


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